Chapter 075: The Demon Seed

Zhao Feng watched Qiu He’s departing figure, and a trace of guilt flickered in his eyes.

“He’s acknowledged me as his master, yet I intend to use him!”

He sighed.

This was precisely Zhao Feng’s intention.

He wanted to shape Qiu He into a true master of ancient martial arts so that in the future, all troubles would be handled by him. Qiu He would become his representative in the mortal world.

As for himself, he would hide in the shadows, quietly executing his grand plan—a scheme to overthrow the Celestial Sect.

Though now he was as insignificant as an ant, a mere speck of dust in the eyes of those from the Celestial Sect, even the smallest ant can burn with fury, and dust can stir into a raging storm.

He, Zhao Feng, had nothing at present, but his heart burned with unquenchable anger. That alone was enough.

Returning home, Zhao Feng slipped into his room. Though he remained as gentle as ever before his family and friends, all sensed a change in him.

It was a feeling, intangible yet undeniable.

No one dared approach him.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Zhao Feng took out a blue satchel, and from it, a blue purse.

He gently caressed the white flower embroidered on its surface, his gaze tinged with nostalgia.

Both the satchel and the purse had been handmade by his senior sister.

Shaking his head, Zhao Feng broke free from his memories.

He glanced into the distance. “It’s time for the next step.”

From the blue satchel, he produced a blue booklet—“The Devouring Demon Art.”

No one knew who had created this art, only that its author possessed extraordinary talent.

For the “Devouring Demon Art” could be cultivated even in this Age of Decline, within the mortal realm.

None of the other techniques Zhao Feng had mastered could compare.

The “Devouring Demon Art” comprised three layers: refining blood, refining flesh, and refining soul.

This was why he’d demanded Xiang Hu’s soul as tribute.

He knew many techniques that could extract souls, but none matched the “Devouring Demon Art.”

Zhao Feng sat in the lotus posture upon his bed.

He slowly opened the booklet and studied the cultivation method intently.

He exhaled deeply.

His senior sister had once told him that his greatest talent was not in alchemy or medicine, but in cultivation.

As Zhao Feng read the method, the principles became clear to him in an instant.

This demonic art was, in truth, a miraculous scripture!

It was not merely a demonic technique, but an exposition on the laws of heaven and earth, and the ultimate truths of life.

To refine blood was to draw out all one’s vital blood, compress it, and condense it into a single drop of demon blood.

This so-called demon blood was not a change in the nature of one’s blood, but rather a transformation—a qualitative ascension.

The changed blood would become demon blood.

To refine flesh was to abandon the old physical body and nurture a brand-new demonic embryo.

This demonic embryo would be a new self.

The body, after all, was but a vessel, destined to decay.

To refine the soul was to let both the original body and the demonic embryo possess self-awareness at the same time.

This was the terrifying aspect of the “Devouring Demon Art.”

Sitting cross-legged, Zhao Feng formed the Meditation Seal with his hands.

He exhaled once more. “With my talent, I can master the first three layers!”

“If I succeed, I should reach the peak of the Qi Refining stage!”

A cruel smile played at the corner of his lips. “The Qi Refining stage has ten layers. I’m at the first. If I reach the pinnacle, no one in this world will dare trouble me!”

He took a deep breath, once again stroking the white flower.

“Senior sister, I know you don’t wish me to walk this path, but I have no choice.”

Resolve hardened in Zhao Feng’s eyes.

He closed them, then began to circulate his spiritual energy with abandon.

His green spiritual energy spun wildly in his dantian, compressing at last into a jade-green orb.

A faint smile crept onto Zhao Feng’s lips. “Once I shed my demonic embryo, my original body will cultivate as usual, while the demonic embryo will be a true demon.”

“From this moment, I’ll be both immortal and demon!”

Without further hesitation, after compressing his spiritual energy, he began circulating the blood within him.

His blood grew ever redder, then turned completely black. In a sudden instant, all the red blood in his body condensed into a single drop of black blood.

A trace of a smile appeared at Zhao Feng’s lips. “Blood refinement complete.”

Without pause, he moved on to the second step—refining flesh, that is, shedding the demonic embryo.

It was a grueling process, akin to a cicada shedding its shell, slowly separating a demonic embryo from his own flesh and blood.

Zhao Feng kept his eyes tightly shut, circulating the “Devouring Demon Art” with focus.

Time passed—an hour, then two, then four.

Night had fallen.

Zhao Feng sat motionless in his room.

Suddenly, his body erupted with multicolored spiritual energy.

A rainbow aura filled the room.

And with a thunderous bang—

His entire outfit was blasted to shreds.

A seam split open along his back; if one looked closely, a form could be seen gradually separating from within the fissure.

“Now!”

Zhao Feng’s eyes snapped open.

With a muffled crash, a black cocoon of flesh separated from his body.

The cocoon pulsed violently, much like a beating heart.

A cruel smile curved Zhao Feng’s lips.

He formed a series of seals, and a shadowy apparition of the Reaper emerged, mouth agape, spitting forth a soul.

It was Xiang Hu’s soul.

The soul of an ordinary person, untrained, is unconscious—and so was Xiang Hu’s soul at this moment.

Zhao Feng grasped it by the neck, formed several more seals, and then thrust the soul directly into the cocoon.

The cocoon throbbed.

Zhao Feng laughed coldly. “Come forth, my demonic embryo!”

No sooner had he spoken than a deafening explosion resounded throughout the room.

With a loud crack, the cocoon split into pieces.

A naked, curled-up figure emerged.

If one observed closely, his features were identical to Zhao Feng’s.

In a flash, the demonic embryo opened its eyes, somersaulted into the air, then landed steadily before Zhao Feng.

Their auras were utterly different; if Zhao Feng was gentle, his other self was cold. If Zhao Feng was sunlight, the demon was darkness.

Dark demonic patterns coiled around the figure.

He spoke: “From this day forth, our goal is to bring down the Celestial Sect!”

Zhao Feng’s original body nodded. “Agreed!”